Friday, September 10, 2004
i've selected my benefits
This fucking nose of mine is oozing all over the damn place. Over the last few days I’ve generated more mucus without feeling sick than at any other point in my life. It’s been a steady sequence of seriously precious moments up here, as my nose does its damnedest to piss me off.
Nothing much in particular is up. My future missus was upset to hear that the New Kids gave VH1 the cold shoulder. They were the first (and remain the greatest) love of her life, and their potential reunion almost had her ready to order cable. As it stands, I’ll have to hit the bars to see the Braves lose in the Divisional Series this year.
There’s some place out in Chinatown that’s hosting a good show tonight. No Doctors, Air Conditioning, Eloe Omoe, and some of the Twisted Village folks are gonna be there. Having never been to Chinatown after hours, though, I have no idea if I’ll make the trek. I’ve heard told that a certain level of unseemliness is expected when in the environs of the wily and cruel Chinese, and I am not well versed in self-preservation. And I only let American blades puncture this skin.
Oh hell, as I type this, a co-worker of mine is relating her experiences backstage at the Ozzfest show in Tampa this week. Apparently she knows Slayer? She’s saying they asked her to fly down and see them play. Maybe she’s talking about somebody else, but the only names I’ve heard her say are Slayer and Ozzy. So she met Ozzy, who gave her a dress shirt with skulls on the shoulders, or something. She’s one of those life-long rocker chicks whose age is completely impossible to determine. She could be sixty or thirty or anywhere in between. She looks exactly my mental picture of Kaedy Kiley, but less feminine. She’s like a leather sack that always smells like smoke and wears Iron Maiden shirts to work. She’s simultaneously amazing and hideous, and is the person I most admire in this world. Other than Shaq.
But so, before this random dribble took over, I had meant to post a link to a good Comets on Fire review from DOA. I don't know the guy who wrote this (I don’t know anyone over there), but it’s some good work. This guy’s written about some good music, though, so he seems pretty alright. Yes sir.
This fucking nose of mine is oozing all over the damn place. Over the last few days I’ve generated more mucus without feeling sick than at any other point in my life. It’s been a steady sequence of seriously precious moments up here, as my nose does its damnedest to piss me off.
Nothing much in particular is up. My future missus was upset to hear that the New Kids gave VH1 the cold shoulder. They were the first (and remain the greatest) love of her life, and their potential reunion almost had her ready to order cable. As it stands, I’ll have to hit the bars to see the Braves lose in the Divisional Series this year.
There’s some place out in Chinatown that’s hosting a good show tonight. No Doctors, Air Conditioning, Eloe Omoe, and some of the Twisted Village folks are gonna be there. Having never been to Chinatown after hours, though, I have no idea if I’ll make the trek. I’ve heard told that a certain level of unseemliness is expected when in the environs of the wily and cruel Chinese, and I am not well versed in self-preservation. And I only let American blades puncture this skin.
Oh hell, as I type this, a co-worker of mine is relating her experiences backstage at the Ozzfest show in Tampa this week. Apparently she knows Slayer? She’s saying they asked her to fly down and see them play. Maybe she’s talking about somebody else, but the only names I’ve heard her say are Slayer and Ozzy. So she met Ozzy, who gave her a dress shirt with skulls on the shoulders, or something. She’s one of those life-long rocker chicks whose age is completely impossible to determine. She could be sixty or thirty or anywhere in between. She looks exactly my mental picture of Kaedy Kiley, but less feminine. She’s like a leather sack that always smells like smoke and wears Iron Maiden shirts to work. She’s simultaneously amazing and hideous, and is the person I most admire in this world. Other than Shaq.
But so, before this random dribble took over, I had meant to post a link to a good Comets on Fire review from DOA. I don't know the guy who wrote this (I don’t know anyone over there), but it’s some good work. This guy’s written about some good music, though, so he seems pretty alright. Yes sir.
